


Patronage

by EndlessStairway



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asgardian Culture (Marvel), Cultural Differences, Dubious Consent, First Time, Homophobic Language, Inadvertant dubcon, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessStairway/pseuds/EndlessStairway
Summary: Loki is sent to Midgard to make amends for his crimes, and six months later he and Tony are spending all their time together. Tony thinks that Loki is his hot alien boyfriend.Loki thinks something very different.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 263
Kudos: 519





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love misunderstandings! This isn't going anywhere but I thought I would share it anyway :)

Loki was on Midgard under Odin’s orders. His magic was limited to basic spells and defensive capabilities, and Heimdall’s watchful eye was on him at all times. Loki was there to make amends to the Midgardians for his actions on their world, and to ensure he complied, he was to work with the group of heroes that had defeated him - the Avengers. Any hint of rebellion or refusal and Loki would be snatched back up to Asgard to fulfill his original punishment - a lifetime in the dungeons.

Loki had been on Midgard under these conditions for a little over six months when Stark made his move.

“Hey, you want to have dinner with me tonight? Just the two of us?”

It was the nervous twist of his fingers that gave away Stark’s intent. Loki knew at once what this was about, and he was only surprised that Stark was not more direct in his proposition. Stark had nothing to lose, after all, not like Loki did.

Loki accepted the invitation and was determined to be an agreeable guest. He would laugh at Stark’s jokes and return his flirtation. He would eat his good food, drink his fine wine, and when the invitation came to stay overnight, Loki had already decided that he would accept.

Loki knew his place. He knew how this situation worked. Stark was a powerful man and Loki was a hostage. Of course, Loki would give him what he wanted. Stark was the one who gave him his work assignments and reported on his behavior - Loki would be a fool to refuse him.

It happened exactly as Loki had predicted, and Loki was pleasantly surprised to find that Stark did not rub his face in the dirt the way he could have. The man was nowhere near as demanding as some patrons he had heard tell of around the hearths and campfires of Asgard. Loki counted himself lucky.

A few weeks later, Stark invited Loki to stay with him in his spacious penthouse instead of in the small apartment Loki had been allocated. Of course, Loki accepted. He would go where his patron wanted him, and after a while he got used to it. He was safer when he was with Stark and giving up whatever minimal privacy he had had in his own rooms was a small price to pay for such security.

Yes, this was perfectly amenable. As long as he was forced to live on Midgard and make amends to the Midgardians for his actions, this would be fine.

***

They were in the workshop when Stark broke away from his work, spinning on his stool to look over at Loki.

“Babe, can I ask you something?”

Loki set down the sigil he was polishing. He was used to Stark calling him all manner of names, and he did not take offense to it anymore.

“Of course, Antony.”

Stark had told Loki to call him by his first name, and so Loki did, but in his head he preferred _Stark._ It suited the man better - a bold name with hard lines, uncompromising at the core, just as he was.

“Are you OK?”

Loki blinked. He was sure he had not given any indication that he was unwell or unhappy.

“Yes, I am fine,” he replied cautiously.

He was unsure if Stark had found some fault with him or if Loki had inadvertently given him some signal that he was dissatisfied with his situation. That could be dangerous. If Stark withdrew his patronage, Loki would be open for another of the Avengers to make a claim. He could not imagine any of the others would be as easy to please or as comfortable to live with as Stark and he shivered at the thought that Barton or even _Banner_ may be next in line. If Loki had done something wrong, he needed to fix it, at once.

He let the tension fall from his shoulders and leaned forward, lowering his voice. He knew what Stark liked by now, and he found the man flatteringly easy to distract. “Perhaps I am in need of something,” he said, with just the right inflection on the world ‘need’ to light up the targeted receptors in Stark’s brain.

Stark grinned at him, unconsciously flicking his tongue over his lips, but annoyingly he did not take the bait.

“Oh, I'll take care of _that_ later, babe, don't you worry,” he said. “But are you sure you’re OK? Is there something on your mind? I’ve noticed you don’t talk to Thor anymore. You don’t talk to anyone except me. I thought you were getting on well with Romanov, at least?”

Loki tried not to let a frown furrow his brow. Of course, he was not talking to anyone else. Was this a trick? Stark was his patron and Loki followed his lead, as he was required to do. He went on missions with him, spent time in his workshop, ate meals with him and warmed his bed at night.

He was perfectly happy with his situation. The missions were easy enough, although they would be easier if he was allowed to use his full powers, and he genuinely enjoyed their time in the workshop. Stark had given him his own worktable and had no care for the amount of gems and precious metals that he used. Loki’s sigil making had improved dramatically during his time on Midgard - his sigils now were far finer and more subtle than anything he had made even a year before.

He had no complaints at all, and Stark’s question was confusing and concerning. Why would he talk to anyone else? Did Stark think Loki was looking for another patron? That idea was unacceptable, and Loki had to banish it from Stark’s head.

He circled the bench and stood in front of Stark. He took care to dress himself in a manner pleasing to his patron. Today he was wearing hip-skimming dark blue jeans and a green button-up, the sleeves rolled to mid-forearm, the top button of the shirt open. Just as he had hoped, Stark’s eyes drifted up to the hollow of his throat and then down to his wrists and hands. Stark liked his hands, but not as much as he liked his mouth. Loki planned to use that to his advantage.

Slowly, giving Stark time to correct him if he wanted to, Loki sank to his knees.

“Why would I want to talk to anyone else when I could talk to you?” he breathed, crawling forward, the perfect blend of predatory and submissive that drove every other thought out of Stark’s head. Stark did not stop him, his eyes already blooming with desire. Loki ghosted his hands up Stark’s thighs and opened his pants to release his cock.

“Loki…” Stark groaned out his name - his real name this time - and leaned back, spreading his knees to give Loki room to work. Stark tasted of musk and metal, and the thick weight of his cock was heavy on Loki's tongue as he worked his head from side to side, easing the length as far into his mouth as he could. This skill was alien to his past life, but in the months since Stark had taken Loki to his bed, he had had ample opportunities to practice it. Loki considered himself passable at it now, although there was room for improvement, as he still could not get the full length of Stark's cock into his mouth without gagging. Stark disliked it when he gagged, so Loki did not push himself, working the base with his hands instead, keeping smooth suction and heat on the rest, stroking the bundle of nerves under the head with his tongue. It did not take long for him to taste salt, and he sucked harder then, as though he could not get enough of it, as though it were the most intoxicating thing he had ever tasted.

When Stark came, Loki raised his head so Stark could see him lick his lips and swallow. Stark loved to see Loki swallow his seed. He desired it even more than he desired to come in his ass, which Loki did not understand at all. One act was clearly more demeaning than the other, and what better way to ensure your former enemy knew his status than to breed him like a bitch? Stark was his patron and Loki expected him to take him in that manner as much as he liked, going so far as to prepare himself for it nightly and even, on occasion, putting himself to bed nude and with a lubricated plug inserted in his ass. Despite Loki’s unflinching willingness, Stark still seemed to prefer his mouth, taking that option as often as he took the other.

Midgard was a confusing place.

Stark leaned down and kissed Loki’s lips, his breath short and his eyes dark.

“Mmm,” he said, breathless. “Loki, you spoil me. C’mere.”

He pulled Loki up and pressed him back against the worktable, leaning into him and standing on his toes to kiss Loki’s neck. He let his hand drift to the waistband of Loki’s jeans, making one of the confusing gestures that he often did, as though tempting Loki to overstep his bounds.

“Anything I can do for you, babe? You do so much for me, isn’t it your turn?”

Stark slipped his fingertips under Loki’s shirt, teasing the soft skin he found there, pretending that he would enjoy stroking Loki to completion right there in his workshop.

“Later,” Loki said, his usual method of graceful deflection. He knew Stark would have him that night, and when he did, he would allow Loki to find his own pleasure in their coupling. Indeed, he often _insisted_ on it and Loki found he could not hold back, even though it was not wise to be selfish in his patron's bed.

“OK, sure, later then.” Stark said, trying to hide a flash of an expression that could have been hurt or confusion, if Loki had not known better.

"I made you something," Loki said, turning away from the complexity of emotions on Stark's face. He picked up the sigil he had just finished, holding it up to the light on its long chain. It was a single large ruby wound with intricate gold wire and linked with smaller gems in a cascading pattern, perfectly flawless and shimmering with its own internal light. The wire formed a rune-web that powered itself from the gems' natural connection with Yggdrasil. He set the sigil in Stark's palm and watched him examine it.

"What does it do?"

"It will keep you safe," Loki explained, pointing out the runes of protection and healing that he had worked into it. Balancing the charms had not been easy - this was some of his best work, and he was proud to present it to his patron.

Stark looped the sigil around his neck and his fingers brushed the small bump the gem made under his shirt. Loki had carefully cut the length of chain to let the sigil rest over the center of the scar on Stark's chest. Stark hated that scar. He tried to hide it, but Loki knew that it caused him pain. He had also observed Stark reflexively shield his chest in battle, a vulnerability that he seemed unable to train himself out of.

The sigil would help protect his weak spot, just as Stark protected Loki.

"Thanks, Loki," Stark said, his voice tight. He held out his arms and Loki stepped into the circle of his embrace. Stark held tight to him for a long time, resting his head on Loki's shoulder, and Loki wrapped his arms around Stark as well, holding him close. Loki had never heard anyone tell of any patron as powerful as Stark being so affectionate, but then again, no Asgardian Loki knew of had been a hostage on Midgard, as he was.

He sighed and kissed Stark's brow, breathing in the comforting scent of him.

Midgard was a confusing place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, I made a downloadable book of my three favorite slave-Loki Frostiron fics: Tony’s Thrall, Butterfly and Downward Facing Dog. Its totally free and my gift to you - [download it here on whatever device/format you prefer](https://dl.bookfunnel.com/mmehdw5gbg)  
> Content warnings are in the book for each story.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo it's me again, you know, the one who wasn't going to write any more. *blush*
> 
> SilverScaler3000 wrote a heartbreaking sequel to this fic (linked at the end), and I can't resist temptation so I wrote a prequel.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Traditionally, the families of noble hostages would arrange patronage with a noble family on the realm where the hostage was to be held. Much depended on this process. If it went well, the hostage could be treated as an honored guest, a fostered family member, or even a potential spouse. However, if the family of the hostage had little power or influence, if they lacked money to pay weregild, or if they had committed unforgivable crimes against the realm, the outlook for the hostage could be bleak indeed._

***

Loki had spent weeks in a cell on Midgard before any of the avengers had even deigned to visit him. The minions of SHIELD claimed they needed to evaluate him first. Without being allowed out of his cell, Loki had no way to make amends or meet whatever nebulous criteria Odin had set to end his sojourn on this miserable realm. He had little choice but to tolerate this ‘evaluation’ and attempt to prove himself. It was that, or spend the next few centuries on Midgard with such limited powers as Odin allowed him to keep.

Once the avengers allowed him to join them at their base of operations, weeks more went by before Loki was invited to take the field with his new ‘allies’. Finally, he had a chance to show his usefulness. He had little magic at his command and his equipment was restricted to SHIELD-issued armor and weapons. He had not even been briefed on the mission, and once the quinjet dropped them off on a snowy hillside, Loki had no idea what was expected of him. He meant to prove himself, but he had no idea who he was even supposed to impress as all the avengers freely gave him orders and contradictory directions, his earpiece a confusing web of chatter and overlapping conversations. Everyone knew what they were doing except him. Loki could feel the cold disapproval at his presence radiating from the archer.

Had he been brought here merely to fail, and then be returned to his cell? He could not allow that to happen. He looked around and saw Stark about to take to the skies.

“Stark,” he called, cringing at his own rough tone. This was no way to address someone he was trying to please, but there was no time to make up for it, the other avengers were already engaged with the enemy.

Stark flipped up his face-plate. “Make it snappy, reindeer games.”

“Give me a target,” Loki said, “I can fight.”

Stark thought for a second, then turned and pointed at a small speck under the ridge of the hill opposite, across the heavily fortified valley.

“See that generator?”

“I see it,” Loki replied grimly. He was already weighing the best attack vectors to get there and the chances of sustaining injuries from the primitive Midgardian projectile weapons. He was the most expendable member of the group and it made sense that they would send him to the most risky targets. He pulled his dagger out of his sleeve in readiness.

Stark reached into the quinjet and tossed him a long-barrelled rifle. “Cover me, I’m gonna go blow it up.”

“You are?”

Stark grinned at him, snapped his faceplate down and took off in a rush of wind. “Don’t tell me they don’t teach you how to shoot in space-viking land.“

Loki dropped the dagger and went to one knee, raising the rifle to his shoulder, finding the balance and weight of it. Stark was a diminishing dot, tracer fire lighting up the sky around him.

Loki followed the tracer fire and found the shooter, a machine-gunner crouching behind a dirt bank. With a muttered charm and a gentle squeeze of the trigger, the rain of bullets abruptly ended.

“I am self-taught.”

Ranged combat was not a valued skill on Asgard, but Loki had always had a clear eye and a steady hand. If it was what he was required to do, he would do it.

Stark laughed in his ear. “Nothing wrong with that - I taught myself to fly, you know. Left of the windmill.”

Loki looked where Stark directed and saw two soldiers scrambling to another gun placement. He took care of them and swiveled his sight back to Stark, who was now engaged in aerial combat with what looked like a two headed dragon.

Loki waited, his finger on the trigger until Stark broke away into a long, lazy climb, encouraging the beast to raise its heads. Loki’s shot took the left head under the chin and blew out the top of its skull, giving Stark a window to flip heels up and fire directly into the right head’s gaping mouth.

“Nice job.”

That was the first kind word Loki had heard in months, possibly years, and the punch of it in his gut almost made him miss his next shot. He got control of himself and the smaller, single-headed dragon that rose up over the ridgeline found itself blind in one eye and easy pickings for Stark to blast its head off.

After that, Loki caught the rhythm of it. Stark was a whirlwind of chaos on the battlefield, but Loki soon saw his patterns and understood how to work with him. Stark had a lot of firepower but he had to be close to the target. Loki had less firepower but with a whisper of an accuracy charm he could put his bullets wherever Stark wanted them. Stark called the shots and Loki took them. He ignored his aching arm and the burning stink of gunpowder in his nose. He only focussed on his targets, and on keeping Stark from harm.

Loki ran out of bullets before Stark ran out of enemies. He ran into the quinjet where he knew the ammunition were kept, but none of the doors would open to his thumbprint, the way they did for the others. He rattled the reinforced steel cage that led to the armory cases, cursing under his breath.

“Loki, now!” came in his ear, and Loki looked up, despairing. The generator was on fire by now, but Stark was facing two of those unnatural flying lizards and there was no sign of any other support.

“ _Hel_ ,” Loki cursed. He could not fail at this first mission. He would not be allowed a second chance, he was sure of that. Stark was evaluating him just as surely as the SHIELD scientists had done. Loki dropped the useless rifle and picked up his dagger. He could not teleport, he could not skywalk, he could not twist through the shadows. All he could do was run. He was fast, but crossing the deep valley would take time that Stark did not have.

A roar echoed in his ears and Loki changed direction without slowing down. A sickening metal crunch sounded from his left but he did not look. He did not have time. He burst into a clearing and ran directly into the Hulk’s fist, which swept him off his feet and smashed him into a tree as easily as if he were a doll.

_Found you,_ Loki thought dazedly to himself.

“Puny god,” the beast sneered at him, hot breath in his face, a meaty fist raised to break the rest of his ribs.

Loki raised his hand and pointed, sending a shower of sparks into the air. Thank the norns, the beast looked, its dull eyes taking endless moments to focus on the battle happening in the sky above it.

With another deafening roar and a brutal slap that knocked Loki flat on his back, the beast took off through the treetops, heading for Stark’s position. A moment later Loki could tell by the screech of lizard-pain that he had found his target. Stark would at least have some backup.

By the time Loki limped back to the transport, the others had regrouped, victorious. Medics were attending the team and Loki’s anxious eyes found Stark in good health except for his arm in a sling. Loki found a spot on the ground, and sat with his back to the ramp of the jet. He crossed his legs and breathed. His broken ribs ground against each other and the flesh under his SHIELD-issued body armor was puffy and bruised, but he would heal. He expected to be ignored. No one was responsible for him. No one would speak up for him or offer him aid. It was the way of things. He expected it, but still the shame burned in his belly.

His family had tossed him down here as a hostage without making the slightest effort to find him a patron. Odin had washed his hands of him and if Thor had made any efforts on his behalf on his infrequent visits, Loki could not see the results of it. He had ostensibly been given to the Avengers, but none of them seemed willing to take responsibility for him. He had yet to demonstrate his usefulness and so they kept their distance. Odin had paid no weregild, leaving Loki alone to atone for his crimes. He did not blame the Midgardians for being unwilling to take him on - as far as they knew, he was nothing but a liability.

If he could not convince any of them of his worth, Loki did not know what would become of him. He would have no one to advocate for him, no one to protect him, no one to see that his needs were met, no one to train with, or provide for him. He would have no household to be a part of.

He would be alone.

Even the lowliest hostage on Asgard had a patron. Maybe not a kind one, it was true, maybe not a gentle one, or a considerate one, but any patron was better than none. A hostage who belonged to nobody, belonged to everybody. The Avengers had demonstrated that today on the battlefield, all of them snapping at him and giving him different and contradictory orders, their irritation with his presence obvious.

Only Stark had found a use for him.

Loki looked up to find Stark himself watching him. Loki looked down hurriedly, sure that he was not supposed to eavesdrop on the team debrief. He would wait where he was until it was time to leave, and then he would return to his rooms. Perhaps this mission would count for something on the invisible roster of ‘amends’ that he was supposed to be making.

He looked up again and Stark was standing in front of him. Loki scrambled to his feet, ignoring the lurching sensation of his ribs moving in his chest.

“Stark,” he said with a respectful dip of his head.

“Loki. What happened to my cover, man? You vanished and next thing I know the Hulk is doing his best to ride a dragon.”

“I apologize. I ran out of ammunition.” Loki had no wish to make excuses, and he would not have done if Stark had not asked him directly. It was his responsibility to know how many shots his weapon could hold and to secure his supplies to fulfill his assigned role.

“There’s more right there,” Stark pointed to the armory cabinets that Loki had tried earlier.

Loki reached out wordlessly and pressed his thumb to the touch-pad. A red light glowed, and the door remained locked.

“Hmm.” Stark gave him a thoughtful look and went back to join his team.

***

That night, Loki had awkwardly wrapped his own ribs with one of the pillowcases from his bed and was eating dinner at the small table of his apartment. There was a small balcony attached to his rooms, but the glass doors were locked, so he could not even let the noise of the city drift in for company. He read, instead, a book of Midgardian history that he had found on the shelf in his borrowed rooms. He had already read it twice, and it was no more entertaining the third time.

It was no matter. He was used to being alone.

A knock at his door startled him out of his slow haze.

“A moment,” he called, surprised that he had a visitor and concerned at the late hour. Had one of the Avengers decided they had a use for him, so late? That could only mean one thing, and Loki steeled himself for it, unconsciously holding his broken ribs.

_A hostage who belongs to nobody, belongs to everybody._

He opened the door, resigned to providing whatever service was required of him, sending a quick prayer to fate that it would not be Barton.

“Hey.” Stark was there, one arm still in its sling, the other awkwardly balancing a flat brown box.

“Stark. Please, come in.” Loki stood back to allow him to enter, a formality that he found himself glad that Stark observed, given that he owned the entire building and could come and go as he pleased. “What may I do for you?”

Stark strolled in, an enticing smell of spices and baked dough wafting behind him. He looked around the sparsely furnished room, taking in Loki’s lonely meal and well-thumbed book.

“Really made yourself at home here, huh?”

Loki did not reply, He had no means to make himself comfortable in this place. He had no funds, no access to any resources. Even the clothes he wore were standard issue SHIELD uniforms, ill-fitting and dull. The rooms were as he had found them, bare and sterile. Even the food he cooked for himself was plain, made from what JARVIS had called ‘basic groceries’ which were delivered every week. Loki was uncomfortable as Stark inspected his rooms. He kept his space clean, and he was sure that Stark would find no fault in that regard.

_He will find fault if he came here to find fault._

Stark flopped down on the uncomfortable couch and set the box on the center seat, flipping the lid up to reveal a circle of cheese-topped bread.

“I brought pizza. Come and sit down. Why don’t you ever eat with the team? Too good to hang with the likes of us?”

Loki sat, taken aback. Was he supposed to attend the avengers at mealtimes, or was Stark serious that he should join them to eat? He belonged to no household and so he ate with no household. That was the way of things.

“I have not been invited,” he said cautiously, unsure if this was a trick question.

“Huh. Well, OK, I’m inviting you, starting tomorrow. There’s food in the common room from about six but people drift in and out. You’re welcome to join.”

“Thank you,” Loki said.

What did this mean? Was he invited to join Stark’s household? Surely not, as the meal was served in the common rooms, not in Stark’s own apartments. But to eat at Stark’s table every day, that must mean something. But the other avengers ate there too, and they were not members of Stark’s household, so it must not be that manner of invitation. It must be something else, and Loki's mind spun on this new information.

Midgard was a confusing place.

“Eat,” Stark told him, helping himself to a triangular piece of the flatbread. Loki did, taking a bite of the food he was offered, sharing food with someone else for the first time in...he did not know how long. The food was barely warm, it was overly greasy and the sauce under the cheese was metallic and overly processed. Loki ate the whole slice in under a minute.

“So, Bruce told me he smashed your ribs pretty good today.”

Loki nodded and took another slice of pizza.

“He did. I wished to direct him to you, but I had to get his attention first.”

“Did you see the medics?”

“I will be fine by tomorrow.” Loki avoided the question. He had no right to the attention of the medics without knowing which household they belonged to. Stark knew that as well as he did, and Loki did not appreciate the reminder. It was unnecessary - he knew his place.

“Uh huh. Not a fan of doctors? I get it. Want me to check you over?”

Loki finished his last bite of food. “If you wish,” he said, his nerves prickling again. He still did not know why Stark was here. He had not come down to Loki’s meager rooms just to share this food with him. He had some ulterior motive and Loki could not tell if it was to see if Loki was suitable to fight under his command, or if he wanted something else entirely.

Loki lifted his shirt and showed Stark his wrapped-up ribs.

“Is that a pillowcase?”

Loki nodded, avoiding Stark’s eyes.

“There’s supplies in the medical bay, you can help yourself if you don’t want to see the medics.” Stark reached out and gently touched the edge of the bruise that mottled Loki’s skin. “There’s painkillers too, if you want them.”

Stark let his touch linger, his brow furrowed at the sight of Loki’s damaged side. Loki kept his breath as even as he could, knowing that he was being judged, that Stark was weighing his choices. Was Loki suitable as a soldier? Was he suitable for something more or less than that?

Hostages did not negotiate their own patronage. If Loki was lucky enough to find someone who would allow him to join their household, he would not argue over what his role was to be.

Stark sat back and tugged Loki’s shirt back into place.

“You’re a good shot, Loki. Birdbrain’s accurate but he likes to call his own targets. You shoot where I need you to shoot.”

“I...yes, of course.” What else would he do? His entire purpose here was to make amends, and he wasn’t going to achieve that by doing whatever he wanted to do on the battlefield.

Stark stood up, heading for the door, leaving the pizza in its box on Loki’s couch.

“You did well today. I authorized you to access the weapons and ammo on the quinjet, and you can use the training rooms here, too. See you tomorrow for dinner." Stark winked at him, and before Loki could form a reply, he was gone.

Loki stared at the closed door for several long minutes. The room was silent but Stark’s presence lingered in the smell of the food, the heat of it in Loki’s belly, and more than that, the warmth of Stark’s fingertips on his bare skin.

He still did not know what Stark wanted from him, but whatever it was, Loki decided there and then that he would give it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright this is the final prequel chapter. Don't forget to check out the sequel by SilverScaler3000 (linked at the end)

Loki had hoped for a while that Stark would take him on purely based on his combat skills. He had done everything he could to prove himself on the battlefield, taking the role Stark assigned him of long-range assassin. He was good at it, and his efforts seemed appreciated by the team, and by Stark especially. The problem was that the Avenger’s combat engagements were infrequent - there were often days or even weeks when Loki did nothing but train and wait.

Combat alone was not enough to earn Stark’s patronage and his flirtatious banter over the comms and in person made it clear what the next step would be. Loki would have to pay a higher price to earn the patronage of the man whose planet he had invaded.

Tonight, he would pay it.

Stark had invited him for a private meal. This would be the final test.

Loki showered very thoroughly. He had no oil or any other means to prepare himself, and on reflection he decided it would have been presumptuous to do so. Stark would have his own preferences and Loki would let him take the lead in that regard.

Choosing what to wear took a long time, as Loki's wardrobe had expanded since he had arrived six months ago. Although Stark had not officially taken Loki into his household, he had authorized him to order a wider range of items from JARVIS. He was no longer restricted to basic groceries. He was allowed to order whatever food he liked as well as clothing, reading material, and toiletries. Anything he ordered was approved by Stark before being delivered, so Loki had been careful in his choices, but even with that restriction he was glad to be done with the ill-fitting SHIELD issue uniforms.

In the end he settled on blue jeans and a button up shirt, a combination he thought Stark liked. He tied his hair back, and then let it loose again, wracking his brain to remember if Stark had ever commented on his hair at all. He tied it up on the battlefield now, as his role as sharpshooter was not helped by the wind blowing hair in his face at critical moments. Once Stark agreed to be his patron he may like him to cut it, and he would have the right to make such requests.

Loki's belly churned with nerves. He regretted accepting the invitation, even though he would have been a fool to decline. He needed this. He had not realized how alone he would be here. Even on Asgard, where he was generally considered standoffish, aloof and arrogant, he had been surrounded by the benefits of Odin’s house. The kitchens, the libraries, the training rooms, the stables, the weapon-smiths, everything down to the pages and maids flowed from that. Without a house to belong to, all of it was gone. All he had was Stark’s tentative extension of benefits during this period of evaluation. If he did not win Stark’s patronage, that would vanish too, and he would have to fend for himself.

He could survive alone, to be sure, but he would have little opportunity to ‘make amends’ the way Odin wanted him too. If he was not fighting alongside the Avengers, they would no doubt consider him an enemy again which would make his task even more difficult. Odin had him wrapped up in his web, and Loki had limited options if he ever wanted to get off this world.

None of the avengers but Stark had showed any interest in becoming his patron. Romanov trained with him, but their conversation was limited to battle techniques. She shared little about her life outside the tower and Loki did not sense that she wanted any more from him that his unobtrusive presence behind his rifle. Barton hated him, which was unsurprising. If the archer was present in the common rooms at mealtime Loki would quietly leave. Both of them in the same space was uncomfortable for everyone and Loki knew that if the team was forced to choose, they would not choose him. So he tried to yield to Barton where he could and avoid confrontation.

Apart from Romanov and Barton, the other Avengers seemed neutral - neither welcoming nor condemning. Either Stark had warned them off or they were simply not interested. Stark was his best and only chance.

Loki took a deep breath and clasped his hands together. He could do this. He had been with men before, and they had seemed to like it well enough. Loki knuckles turned white. He had always assumed that men who liked it somehow _knew_ that they liked it, but he had never…

He straightened his shoulders. It mattered little what he had done or not done in the past. He had been a prince then and he was a hostage now. His situation had changed and he had to change too.

***

Stark was waiting in the penthouse when the elevator deposited Loki into the spacious room. It was a world of difference from his sparse apartment, even the air smelled better up here - clean and fresh.

“Hey, you made it.” Stark smiled at him, and Loki relaxed a little.

This would be fine. Stark had needs and he wanted Loki to meet them, that was all. Stark still was the same man Loki had fought with a dozen times, who he had trained with, whose back he watched on the field and whose generosity had given Loki what undeserved comforts and protection he enjoyed now. Stark was determined on the battlefield but he had shown no inclination to be cruel. This would be fine.

“Of course.” Loki gave a slight bow, surprised and gratified to see the effort Stark had gone to for this meal. The table was set, wine was uncorked, and covered platters rested on the kitchen counter. If Stark had intended to set Loki at his ease, he succeeded. Maybe, Loki thought to himself, Midgard had different customs in this regard. Maybe arriving here without a pre-arranged patron was not the utter shame and disgrace that it would be on any other realm.

If Stark was not aware of exactly how dangerous and precarious Loki’s position here was, Loki was not going to tell him. If this patronage would be more like a courtship than a negotiation, he would follow Stark’s lead and play the game as it was played on this realm.

***

The meal was over and the wine was gone when they had moved to the couch together. Loki had drunk a little more than he should have, and Stark too was relaxed and loose-limbed, smiling and content. The meal had been pleasant, with light conversation and Stark's usual flirtation, which Loki had done his best to return.

Now, the words had run out. Stark reached over and brushed his fingertips down Loki’s jaw, his thumb lightly skimming Loki’s lower lip.

“I like you,” he said simply, his vivid brown eyes locked on Loki’s face.

Loki leaned into the touch, turning his head to leave a whisper of a kiss on Stark’s thumb. “I was hoping you did,” he said, pitching his voice low to match Stark’s intent tone.

“Really?”

“Mmm. In fact, I was hoping that you invited me here for more than just dinner.”

Stark shuffled closer until their thighs were almost touching, the heat of his body radiating and tingling on Loki’s skin. His hand brushed Loki’s neck, gently stroking the soft skin under his ear and letting his fingertips trace the outline of the collar of his shirt.

“I _did_ invite you here for more than just dinner.”

Stark leaned forward, his head tipped to the side. The soft pressure of his fingers prompted Loki to match his gesture, gentle guidance on the appropriate response that Loki was grateful for.

When their lips met, Loki closed his eyes.

***

Stark’s bedroom was the size of Loki’s entire apartment, not even including the extravagant marble-floored bathing room. Even his bed was huge. Loki kicked off his boots and fell onto it in a tangle of limbs. Stark fell on top of him, his hands tugging at Loki’s shirt.

Stark’s hard length pressed against Loki’s thigh, and Stark rolled his hips, a moan of pleasure growling in his chest.

Loki cupped him through his pants and stroked, gratified to see the man’s eyes roll up and his breath stop. A moment later he gripped Loki's wrist and eased his hand away.

“Loki, if you don’t stop that this is going to be a very short evening.”

He smiled as he said it but Loki heard the warning clearly. He had not been told to do that and it was not his place to take the lead. If Stark wanted his hands he would tell him, but for the night of his initiation Stark would surely want more than that.

Loki unbuckled his belt and lifted his hips for Stark to strip him, and then he was nude, spread out on Stark’s bed. Despite his nerves, and despite the alcohol or perhaps because of it, Loki was hard. It had been a long time since he had been kissed with hunger, since warm skin had been pressed to his, since skilled hands had been under his clothes. He could not help it, and he hoped that Stark would take it as a compliment rather than more evidence that he did not know his place.

Stark gave up fighting with his buttons and just yanked his shirt off over his head. Loki let his knees fall open in willing invitation, his hand trailing up his own chest. His face was hot, and the look in Stark’s eyes was ravenous, as though Loki were a feast and Stark had not eaten for a month.

“You read my mind,” Stark said, kneeling between Loki’s spread thighs. “Look at you, just as beautiful as I knew you would be.”

Loki was glad his offering was appreciated.

“Turn over?” Stark sighed when Loki rolled over onto his belly. He took a double handful of Loki’s ass and squeezed. “Loki, you have no idea how long I have wanted to do that.”

Loki wriggled his hips. “Do it again, then,” he said, encouraging. The sensation was not unpleasant and if Stark found his body pleasing, he should enjoy it. He should do what he wanted, touch him as he pleased, tell Loki what he liked and how to present himself for his pleasure.

Stark did it again, kneading Loki’s ass like ripe fruit. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Loki's lower back, a kiss that turned into a lick all the way up to his neck and ended with a whisper in his ear. “I’ll take care of you, OK?”

“Yes. Please, yes. That’s what I want.” Loki was lightheaded with relief, with alcohol, with the sensation of Stark’s hands on his skin. Stark would take care of him. He would be his patron and this was all he wanted in return. Stark chuckled and kissed his neck.

“Perfect. Just perfect for me.”

Loki relaxed. Their bargain was made and all he had to do was deliver on his end of it. Stark was going to take care of him and that was all that he had wanted.

Slick fingers slid down between Loki’s buttocks and instinctively he tensed up at the cool gel.

“Little cold?”

Loki nodded and made himself unclench. This was the bargain he had made and he was not going to ruin it now.

“Just a little, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to stop. We'll soon get you warmed up.”

The slick gel was a kindness that Loki appreciated but by no means had expected. As playful and friendly as Stark could be, Loki had not expected anything but to be put on his belly to serve his patron’s pleasure.

Stark had other ideas. He had all the time in the world. It seemed he wanted to make Loki scream and he was relentless in pursuing that goal. Loki was rapidly losing his mind even with just the slick drag of Stark’s fingers between his cheeks. When he reached down and stroked his balls Loki gasped and instinctively spread his legs, raising his hips and arching his back, chasing that sensation.

“There you are,” Stark said, almost to himself, “There you are, that’s what you wanted isn't it, hmm?”

Loki whined in reply, his cock hard and heavy between his legs. When Stark finally stroked the length of it, one slow strong from base to tip, his vision blurred and his breath came in short, sharp panting breaths.

“Please,” he said, overwhelmed and breathless, “Stark, please.”

“Stark? We’re not on first name terms yet?” Stark slid his thumb inside Loki’s body, his palm flat on his perineum. The pressure woke some foreign sensation inside Loki's body, making him writhe helpless on the bed. "I like to be on a first name basis with anyone who sees me naked.”

 _“Antony,”_ Loki said, hardly able to force the words out. He suddenly knew what those men who had spread their legs for him had liked about it. His whole body was alive with a low, deep sensation. It was like a pleasurable ache that pulsed and grew in his belly, centered on the easy slide of Stark’s thumb going _into_ his body, entering him, penetrating him.

Loki wanted Stark to consummate their bargain and take what he was due. He wanted it from Stark the way those others in his bed had wanted it from him. He had thought them his inferiors and that they found pleasure in such a thing to be a mark of weakness. He had thought them _different_ to him.

But now he was the one spreading his legs for a more powerful man, and it was not all what he had thought it would be. He wanted more.

Stark stroked his cock again. He had used even more of the slick gel and Loki helplessly thrust into his deliberately loose fist. It was too little sensation for his desperate need but more than enough to keep him chasing more.

“Call me Tony. Only my mom called me Antony.”

Loki pushed up on his hands and knees. It had been so long, too long since he had had anything but pain from the touch of another. He could not stand to wait another second. He was going to lose his mind.

He glared over his shoulder. “Are you going to talk about your mother or are you going to take me?”

Stark stared at him, his clever hands shocked into stillness. For a long, terrible moment Loki thought he had gone too far, but just as an apology formed on the tip of his tongue, a breathless laugh huffed from Stark’s lips.

“Oh, it’s like that is it? Loki’s getting impatient? Is _this_ what you want?”

Stark’s thumb was gone and something much fatter nudged at Loki’s entrance, pressing into the ring of muscle. Loki pushed back to meet it, as eager for Stark’s cock as he was for his patronage. Both of them were bound up together, one and the same.

“Yes, yes, yes. Yes. Now.”

Stark eased forward and there was so much slick gel between them that his cock slid home just as easily as that. It was the work of a moment for him to claim Loki, to take him as no one else had ever done. Loki’s body burned with pleasure as he was filled, well prepared and readied for this use, he welcomed it. He fell back down on his elbows, his knees splayed, his body spread and presented as wantonly as Stark could wish for.

"Loki, Loki, Loki." Stark called his name as he pumped his hips, the words sharp pants with each thrust, his hands tight on Loki's waist. Loki clenched his fists in the sheets, unable even to respond, unable to do anything but gasp for breath as he was ridden. When Stark reached under his hip and brought him to a shuddering climax Loki thought he was going to pass out. Perhaps he did, because when he could find himself again he was flat on his belly, wrung out and limp as Stark pumped his seed inside him, his groan hot in Loki's ear.

It was done.

Their bargain was made and sealed. Stark was Loki’s patron and the head of his household. He was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already, download my collection of my three favorite slave-Loki Frostiron fics: Tony’s Thrall, Butterfly and Downward Facing Dog. Its totally free and my gift to you - [download it here on whatever device/format you prefer](https://dl.bookfunnel.com/mmehdw5gbg)  
> Content warnings are in the book for each story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses. One more prequel for us all to enjoy. I THINK this is the last, if there are any more prequel scenarios you want to see, let me know (although no promises), apparently I can't stop writing this.
> 
> ALSO!! Shivanessa has written another sequel to this fic! Link is at the end, please check it out! It's a different twist to Silverscaler3000's version - both are wonderful additions and I am hugely flattered that two such talented writers are inspired by my concept. 
> 
> Anyone else out there who wants to take the Patronage concept and run with it, please do! I am happy for people to use ideas from my stories and create their own. We're in the business of transformative works here, so the more the merrier. All I ask is to be linked so I can find your stories :)

“I have to confess something to you.”

Stark propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at Loki where he lay between his legs. They were both sprawled out in Stark’s bed, Loki nude and Stark in just his underwear.

“Right now?”

Loki smiled nervously and licked his lips, hoping what he was about to say would not be too disappointing to his patron.

“It is relevant to the situation at hand.”

Loki had to confess now, before he obeyed Stark’s suggestion and took his cock in his mouth. Unlike their precious encounters, where Stark took the lead, this would require Loki to know what he was doing. Stark was going to have expectations of Loki’s performance and Loki knew he would not meet them. He had never done this before and Stark’s cock was not small. He had to admit the truth to his patron and hope that he was not angry.

“OK then, let’s hear it. Confession time.”

Loki forced the words out. “I do not have much practice at this.”

Stark raised his eyebrows. “This being - “ he gestured at the telltale bulge in his underwear, at Loki laying between his legs, ready to service him. “- this?”

Loki immediately tried to reassure his patron. “I am very willing to learn, if you would care to teach me.”

Stark stared at him, slow flush spreading over his cheeks. He took a long moment to respond, and when he did it was not what Loki had expected.

“You...er…you want me to teach you how to suck cock?”

Loki nodded. “I will do my best to follow your instructions.”

Stark fell back on the pillow, his hands over his face. “Oh, you’re too much Loki, you’re too much. Are you serious? You’re just messing with me, right? No, don’t tell me. Don’t ruin it. You’re going to kill me, you know that?”

Loki was unsure what to make of that, and could think of nothing to do but again affirm his willingness to perform this service. “I am serious, Anthony. I am sure this would be a better experience for both of us if you would instruct me.”

Stark groaned, then wrapped his legs around Loki’s ribs and squeezed him with his thighs, rocking him from side to side. “I’m dying. I’m literally dying. The answer is yes, I would be freaking delighted to _instruct_ you.” He seemed to recover himself, getting back up on his elbows and looking down at Loki again. “OK, but tell me seriously because I don’t know if you’re playing it coy here, do you want me to _teach_ you, or do you want me to _train_ you? I'll play it either way so whichever you want is fine with me.”

Loki understood the nuance at once. Stark was asking him how well he would learn - would he require the more disciplined approach of training, or was he a willing enough student to be taught?

Loki was a little disappointed that he had not yet demonstrated his willingness enough that Stark felt he had to ask that question. Since Stark had become his patron, Loki had been nothing less than accommodating to his every desire. He had spread his legs wherever and whenever his patron wanted him to, and, if he was completely honest, a few times that had pre-empted Stark’s desire as well. There was something about what Stark did to him that had woken a craving in his belly, an itch that grew and hungered and needed to be fed.

Loki rested his hands on Stark’s spread thighs, his fingers sneaking under the fabric of his undershorts, stroking the warm skin he found there. Loki had already discovered that Stark enjoyed his touch, and he did not hesitate to touch him as often as he could.

“Teach me,” he decided, allowing his head to dip and his warm breath to fall on the eager bulge in Stark’s shorts. “If you do not find me a capable student, then...ah...then perhaps you may need to train me. I will let you be the judge of my performance.”

The flush on Stark’s cheeks intensified, and he seemed he could not tear his eyes away from Loki’s face. He cleared his throat before he replied.

“OK. OK, sure, yeah. That’s um...yeah. That works.”

A moment passed and nothing more was said. Stark seemed distracted, so Loki let his fingers run further up under Stark’s shorts, brushing at the crease of his thighs, deliberately teasing in the way he knew Stark liked. Loki would not say his patron was easy to please, because Stark was demanding and very thorough in the bedroom, but he had not yet asked Loki to perform any duty that he overly minded. Perhaps he needed to be prompted.

“What is my first lesson, Anthony?”

“You’re just gonna keep calling me that, huh? Well, now I kinda like it, it must be the way you say it.”

It was a little risky to still call his patron that name, but Loki was not averse to taking a risk to set himself apart from any others that Stark may be bedding. Besides, Stark enjoyed being teased, as long as Loki did not take it too far.

“I’m beginning to think you are not interested in teaching me. Shall we do something else? Romanov loaned me a tanto blade I have been meaning to try...”

“No, no, no, no!” Stark rearranged himself so he was leaning up against the pillows, giving himself a better view of the proceedings. “Absolutely not. Romanov’s a bad influence. You want a cock sucking lesson, I will give you a cock sucking lesson.”

Loki smiled up at him, pleased that Stark was enjoying himself. He was still learning how much teasing Stark would tolerate, but the man was good humored and did not seem to take offense to the things that sometimes slipped out of Loki's mouth. Loki was lucky in that regard, as he needed to keep Stark happy and content. Stark was rich and powerful, and if he just wanted a warm body in his bed he would have no trouble finding someone. Loki intended to be more to him than just Stark’s bed-warmer. He also watched his back in battle, he amused him in conversation, he challenged him mentally.

It was inevitable that Loki would make mistakes. Eventually he would misstep and perhaps even do something that would result in Asgard coming to Midgard to deal with him. Without a patron, Loki would have no defense if Odin wanted him back, but now he had Stark, and Stark had rights. Loki could not be taken back to Asgard without at least consulting with his patron. As long as Stark wanted him, Loki had a layer of protection between himself and an eternity in Odin's dungeon. Therefore, pleasing Stark was his primary goal, which brought them back to the matter at hand.

“OK, cock sucking lesson one.”

Loki reached up to the waistband of Stark’s underwear, but Stark pushed his hand away, wagging his finger at him.

“Uh uh, not yet. Lesson one - the most important lesson, more important than any technique or any amount of practice. You ready? You listening?”

“Yes, Anthony, I am listening.”

“You want it.”

Loki frowned, “I want it?”

Stark grinned at his confusion. “Yes, you do. You want it. You want to suck my cock _so bad_ . You can’t wait to get it in your mouth. It’s the best thing you ever tasted. You need it _right now._ You can’t get enough of it. You would suck my cock _all day_ if I would let you.”

Realization dawned. Loki tried again to pull down Stark’s underwear, but he was denied, again.

“You want something, babe?”

“Yes,” Loki said, understanding what was required of him. “Yes, Anthony, I want to suck your cock.”

Stark held Loki’s wrists, pinning his hands to the bed.

“Good start, but I'm not convinced.”

“I want it.”

“Want what?”

Loki forced himself not to glare. So, Stark would not be satisfied with just his mouth, he wanted him to show himself eager to provide this service before he would be allowed to attempt it. This was not the lesson he had been expecting, but very well.

He took a deep breath and let it out. He could do this.

With what he hoped was a seductive purr, Loki lowered his head and rubbed his cheek on the bulge in Stark’s underwear. “I want your cock in my mouth. I want to taste you. I need it, Anthony please do not deny me! Surely you would not be so cruel?"

The silk sheets of Stark's bed were soft on Loki's naked body, and as he spoke, his own words started to weave their magic in his mind. It was easy to forget where he was, what he was doing, and think this like any other lover’s game. Stark was easygoing, he was generous and kind, and all he wanted in return for his patronage was for Loki to perform the way he told him to. He had been very clear with his instructions - it was not enough to pretend, to play-act. Stark told him he must _want_ to serve his patron in this manner and so Loki must want it. He must believe it. It must be true.

“Anthony,” he mumbled, mouthing at the outline of Stark’s cock through his clothes, tasting mild soap and salt on his tongue. "Anthony, please. What must I do? I will do whatever you ask if you will only allow me this gift.” Loki instinctively spread his legs and rolled his hips, the delicious drag of the silk sheets against his own cock almost unbearable.

“You want it huh?”

“Let me…” Loki shook his wrists free and pulled Stark’s shorts down, only prevented from his goal by Stark grabbing his hair and holding him back.

“Anthony, please! I beg you, I need it, please!”

Stark fisted his cock with one hand, stroking himself inches from Loki's open mouth. Loki whined and struggled in his grip until Stark let him lower his head just enough to wrap his lips around the tip. He sucked eagerly, his eyes falling closed as though in ecstasy.

“There, is that what you need?”

Loki raised his head enough to say, “More,” and then he had Stark’s cock back in his mouth, licking and sucking as much as he could. Stark let go of his hair but wrapped his hands around the base of his cock, not allowing Loki to take the full length into his mouth. It was not enough. He wanted more. He could handle more. He wanted Stark to take his mouth just as took his ass. He wanted to be filled, to serve his patron's pleasure, he wanted to lose himself in this act, to forget everything except the physical. He needed it.

“You want more?”

Loki growled in reply and bit Stark’s fingers where they wrapped around his cock, trying to dislodge them so he could swallow more.

“Woah, no teeth! No teeth! Maybe that should have been lesson one.”

“I will remove my teeth if you will remove your hand,” Loki offered, giving Stark’s finger another nip.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.”

Loki found himself shoved off his patron’s cock, and for a terrifying moment he thought he had angered him. Stark had not yet had reason to discipline him and Loki had no wish to find out what that would entail. He looked up, ready to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, but Stark was still smiling, his eyes dark, his cheeks heated with desire.

“On the floor,” he ordered. "Get on your knees."

Loki did it, scrambling off the bed and onto his knees, still confused about what was happening. Stark liked to be teased but it seemed he had gone too far. Loki had disobeyed his direct order and surely there would be consequences for that.

Stark got off the bed, and stood before him. He had rearranged himself and his underwear was back in place.

“So, looks like teaching isn’t going to work for you. Can't say I'm surprised.”

Relief flooded Loki’s body. This was recoverable. He had not shown himself an obedient student and so Stark would have to take a stricter approach. He would train him instead of teaching him, but that was nothing Loki could not tolerate. Stark did not even sound angry. Still, Loki had failed to prove himself. He hung his head.

“I apologize, Antony.”

Stark lifted Loki’s head, two fingers under his chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“Tell me what you need, Loki.”

Loki squirmed, heat growing in his belly at the intensity of Stark’s gaze. He licked his lips and gave Stark what he was asking for.

“Antony, will you please train me to pleasure you with my mouth?”

Stark pulled him up on his knees and kissed him, hungry and devouring. Loki returned his kiss, his pulse jumping as Stark forgave his lapse and accepted his apology.

“I will definitely train you,” Stark said, his voice gravelly, his cock straining at the cotton of his underwear.

Loki looked up at his patron, waiting for his instructions. He absently licked his lips, the faint taste of Stark’s arousal still lingered there, and Loki let his fingers dance over his own cock as he tasted it. Just as he had found when Stark penetrated him for the first time, this experience was not what he thought it would be.

A light tap on his cheek brought Loki’s attention back to the moment. Stark smiled down at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and despite the arousal strumming in the air Loki smiled back. Stark was his patron and it was his right to train him, but there was more here than that. Loki wanted it. He wanted Stark to train him and he wanted to please him. Stark’s desire was _his_ desire. It passed between them like a flame, as though the pair of them were the flint and the steel. Loki wondered if this was what the soldiers felt when they followed his brother into battle, what the lords felt when they swore their oaths before Odin's throne, what the birds felt when they followed the rising sun. It was not a burden to bow his head and obey his patron's wishes, it was the opposite of that. It was as easy and natural as following the current of the ocean.

“Still with me? Good. Let’s start again. Lesson zero. _No teeth._ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends, I hope you are all doing well, and keeping as safe, healthy and unstressed as possible.

Stark liked sex.

Loki should not have been surprised by that fact. Stark's desire for him had earned him a position in Stark’s household, but Loki really was a little taken aback by just how _much_ sex Stark wanted. Daily, if not multiple times each day, Stark would have Loki perform. It was starting to wear on him.

It was not that Loki did not like sex, because he did, and sex with Stark was certainly pleasurable. The man was skilled and generous, and he seemed to enjoy taking Loki apart as much as he enjoyed his own climax. The problem was, as it ever had been, that Loki desired such intimacy much less frequently than his partners did.

In the past, he had compared himself to Thor and his friends, who often ended up in brothels and in other people’s beds. They took any opportunity to indulge themselves, but Loki found himself, once more, to be different. Just as he could enjoy a fine feast and then fast for several days after, Loki could enjoy an enthusiastic bedding and then not think of sex again for days or even weeks.

Loki's patron was not like him in that regard. Stark's desire for carnal indulgence was limited only by his equally voracious appetite for discovery and invention. Loki would not deny him, of course, he would never do that, but he wished that Stark would sometimes just fuck him and have done with it. He would not mind lying beneath his patron for that purpose. It would be faster and he would not have to respond to Stark’s touch.

He turned it around in his head. Sex with Stark was pleasurable, but there was too much of it. Each time he enjoyed it, but the thought of doing it again made his stomach turn unpleasantly. He could not make sense of it, except that he was overwhelmed, and it was too much.

Loki was not sure if he could keep up his performance. It had been almost a year since Stark had taken him to his bed. At first it had been new enough and the acts he was required to perform were different and intriguing enough that he had not noticed or minded the frequency. But now, Loki just wanted to rest. He wanted to sleep in a bed by himself, to wake up alone and feel the boundary where his body met the rest of the world.

Such thoughts were foolish and selfish, but Loki could not seem to stop them. He reminded himself of what his life had been like before Stark had agreed to become his patron. He had been alone, isolated in his apartment with no companionship, cooking basic groceries and eating solitary meals by himself. If he did not keep Stark happy, that is what he would go back to. He would lose his patron and the slight but noticeable thawing of relations with the other Avengers would be ripped away from him as well. The help he needed to make amends enough to satisfy Odin's command would be gone, and his sentence would be never-ending.

Going back to that would be worse than tolerating Stark's lust, but Loki knew that if he was woken up one more time by Stark's fist around his already hard cock, he was going to scream.

***

Loki cleared his throat. This was his opportunity and he could not delay another moment. The quinjet was almost back at the tower and he and Stark were the only passengers in the rear compartment. Their battle had been successful and Stark was in a good mood. If they returned to the penthouse he would no doubt take Loki to his bedroom to celebrate their victory, so this conversation could not wait.

“Anthony?”

“Mmm?” Stark’s brown eyes were hooded. It was late and he was dozing, the high of battle leaving him sleepy and content. There really was no better time to ask, but still Loki had to force the words out.

“If it is alright with you, I would like to spend the night in my old apartment.”

Stark’s eyes came fully open at that, but instead of irritation or anger on his face there was only concern at Loki’s request.

“Is everything OK? Are you OK? Did I...I didn’t mean to yell at you back there, I just wasn’t sure you could hear me over the explosion and…”

At once, Loki reassured his patron that he was not upset, or sulking like a child over being given orders on the battlefield. “Yes, of course everything is fine. I would like to…meditate. That is all.”

Stark frowned. “You can’t do that at home?”

“I could try, but it is easier when I am alone.” Loki said nothing more, giving Stark an easy path to deny him if he wanted to. With any negotiation, it was better to avoid forcing your opposite partner to say the word _no_ out loud. Stark could deny him, of course, but Loki knew that Stark would prefer to give a soft no than a hard one. Stark preferred persuasion to orders, except in the bedroom when orders fell off his tongue like drops of honey.

Loki shivered at the thought. Why was he so resistant to giving Stark his due? Now, face to face with Stark, his warm smile, the crinkle around his eyes, the glint of the sigil chain around his neck, Loki was already melting. Stark did not hurt him in any unpleasant ways. He was always careful in his preparations, and if he crooked his finger Loki would get on his knees right here in the quinjet and swallow his seed. He would even enjoy it, he knew he would. But after this time would come another, and then another all too soon, running into each other and running over Loki like water, wearing him down like a stone under a river. No, he had to follow his plan and allow Stark to answer his request.

“Oh. OK, well sure, if you need to be alone. You have everything you need down there? I think you left it pretty empty. Take some food, and some of that tea you like.”

Stark’s concern seemed alleviated and Loki smiled at him, relieved that his request would be granted so easily.

“I will take the tea, that is a good idea. Thank you.”

***

Loki’s old apartment was small compared to the penthouse. It smelled unlived in, and the furniture was well made but utilitarian. It was a place for transient guests and not for someone to live. Loki shut the door and leaned on it, looking around. It had been months since he had been here. What few possessions he had, he had taken to the penthouse when Stark invited him to stay there, and so this apartment was as bare as it had been when Loki had first arrived from Asgard.

The container of tea was the only splash of color in the place, and with nothing better to do, Loki made himself a cup. Forgetting that it was sealed shut, he tried to pull the door to the balcony open. He had the habit of drinking tea outside, looking over the city from the height of Stark’s penthouse. Here was much lower on the tower anyway, so he just stood at the glass door and drank, the quiet and emptiness of the room prickling the back of his neck. He did not know what to do with himself. In the penthouse, he would be joining Stark for a late meal, or watching some overly-loud and fast-moving entertainment on his screens, or talking and laughing together over a glass of expensive liquor.

_No, he would have you on your back in his bed, which is why you are here and not there._

Loki turned away from his own reflection. It was true. Stark always bedded him after their battles, but he did the other things too - the meals and drinks and conversations. Stark did not just use him for sex. Loki was not just a bedwarmer to him, he was not even just a fighter _and_ a bedwarmer. He was not any one thing, or any combination of things that Loki could put a name to. If Loki did not know better, he would say Stark was treating him as one would treat a valued and highly born hostage being groomed for an arranged marriage. That was impossible, of course. Such a thing would be negotiated by the family of the hostage and would take much discussion. Important matters of inheritance, rank, bearing of heirs, distribution of titles and land - none of it would be left to chance.

Everyone involved would know about it. _Wouldn’t they?_

For a single moment Loki considered that Odin had somehow arranged it with Stark behind his back, but then he dismissed the idea. If Odin had sent Loki to be married to a Midgardian he would not have passed up the opportunity to tell him about it. Odin would make sure Loki understood both the shame of it _and_ that it was the greatest honor likely to be paid to a rebellious not-son like him. No, it was not that. Loki was here to make amends and only Odin would know when enough amends had been made to release him from his penance on Midgard.

_Probably not until he has some other use for you._

Loki breathed the smell of mint and honey from his cup, and tried to calm his mind.

_If Stark would marry you, you would answer to him and not to Odin._

Loki dismissed that wild fancy. Stark had never given any hint that he had any desire for marriage. Even if he did, Stark could have his pick of his own kind rather than Loki. Even if he somehow decided to pick Loki, without Odin’s permission he would gain nothing from it other than Loki himself. He would have no of a dowry, no titles, coin, land, or inheritance for any children. It was impossible.

_Why would Stark marry you anyway, if you won’t fulfill his needs?_

Loki almost bolted out the door and back up to the penthouse at that evil little thought. The cup cracked on the counter as he set it down, his hand shaking. Where had such thoughts come from? He was losing his mind.

Stark liked him, Loki knew that. His patron enjoyed his company, he appreciated his combat skills and he desired his body. That was enough. It was more than enough. Loki was lucky that he had Stark as his patron at all. Stark had even agreed to let Loki spend the night in his apartment and he did not have to do that.

Loki took a deep breath, pushing all wild thoughts and fantasies aside.

He had told Stark he wanted to mediate, so he would do that. He would probably benefit from it, and when Stark asked how it was, as he certainly would, Loki would be able to give him an honest answer. He threw away the broken tea cup, changed into his sleeping clothes, and settled on the floor. Laying on his back, arms loose at his sides, Loki closed his eyes and tried to think of nothing.

It was very hard.

His mind was too full, and with each breath he had to recenter himself. When he was younger, he used to meditate everyday to improve the flow and control of his seidr, but he had got out of the habit of it. Perhaps this was not just an excuse to his patron. Loki needed this more than he had thought. Easy access to the shimmering power of Yggdrasil was gone, of course. It no longer poured over him like a waterfall - Odin’s restrictions had throttled the flow to a mere trickle. Loki did not let himself mourn the loss. He had more power now than he had had when he started to master seidr. He was limited in how he could use it, that was the problem. Odin had not explained in any great detail what the restrictions meant, and Loki suspected it was linked to his own intention rather than the specific spells he tried to use. Teleportation, illusions, energy bolts, accessing his hidden pocket dimensions - all were blocked. He could defend himself, as he had done on the battlefield several times now, and he could heal. That was all.

Breath flowed through him, and Loki opened himself to the energy of Yggdrasil that still came to him. He felt as he had when he was a boy, first tentatively reaching out to the furled up core of undeveloped seidr within him. But now he knew the way - he did not need directions or instructions. It may be possible for him to increase his power just through the simple techniques his mother...that Queen Frigga had taught him all those years ago.

***

Loki opened his eyes hours later. The room was dark except for the dim glow that filtered in from outside. He let the final breath of his meditation leave his lungs, and then sat up. Why had he neglected this practice for so long? The long-lost feeling of a settled mind was back with him now, and he scolded himself for his foolishness in how he had behaved with Stark.

Stark’s patronage was not something he had to sustain for a few weeks or months. He could be on Midgard for years, or decades if Odin was feeling vindictive. This was not something he could grit his teeth and endure, it had to be sustainable long term. He should not be bowing to Stark’s every whim - he was a prince of Midgard, it was true, but Loki was a prince of Asgard. Stark have his way in the bedroom, but Loki would see to his own needs as well. If he needed time alone, he would get time alone.

“Jarvis?” Loki spoke to the ceiling in the dark, sure that the ever-present machine would respond.

“Yes, Loki?”

“Is Mr Stark still awake?” He was not sure of the time, he only knew that it was late.

“Mr Stark is in bed, but he is awake. Would you like to speak to him?”

“Yes, please.”

A short pause, and then, “Hey Lokes, what's up?”

“Hello, Anthony.” Loki found himself smiling as Stark’s voice warmed the bare room he was in. “I was wondering if you were still awake. I have finished my meditation…”

Loki did not even have to finish the sentence before Stark jumped in.

“You coming back up?”

“If that is alright. I want to talk to you.”

“Uh oh. Am I in trouble?”

Loki’s smile widened. “If I say yes, will you still let me come up?”

Stark sighed. “Yes, but only because you’re cute and I miss you. Am I really in trouble?”

Loki enjoyed Stark's teasing, but he did not want to spoil the mood, so he relented. “No, you are not in trouble, but I do want to talk to you. I will be up shortly.”

Stark was waiting for him when the elevator opened, a dark gold robe thrown over his sleep shorts. The robe was loosely tied and Loki was distracted for a moment by the promise of what was under it. Stark had an easy physicality that Loki could not help but respond to, drawn to it like a cat to golden sunlight.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

Loki poured them both a drink before he answered, his movements sure and steady. His mind was as calm as the deep ocean after his meditation. If he could not live with Stark long-term, Stark was not the right patron for him, it was that simple. His family had abandoned him down here without any help, so he would have to negotiate and advocate for himself. No one was going to do it for him.

“I want to decorate and refurnish my apartment,” he said, the words coming to him easily. “I need my own space, for meditation, to refine what magic I have left, to observe the rituals of my people.”

Stark blinked. “OK. I mean, the apartment’s yours if you want to use it. You can change it up. It’s up to you, do whatever you like.”

Loki made sure Stark did not misunderstand him.

“I will spend time there. Alone.”

Stark avoided Loki’s eyes. The liquor in his glass glinted in the lights from the bar as he drained it and poured another. “Yeah, I get it. You need alone time. Everyone does. I know I'm a handful.”

Before Loki could ask him what he meant, Stark continued. “I’m not going to stop you - you can hang out down there if you want to. I do have another idea though, if you’re up for it?”

Loki nodded, and Stark led him down the hallway on the other side of the penthouse from his bedroom. At the end, Stark opened a door and ushered Loki into a large room with floor to ceiling windows and soft recessed lighting. The walls were lined with shelves with little on them, and there was a desk and chair pushed up to one wall. The room seemed half-finished, or perhaps abandoned.

Stark did a turn in the center of the room, arms outstretched. “You can have this room, if you want to. Change it up, make it your own. It even has a lock on the door for your alone time.”

Stark pointed and Loki saw that it did indeed have a lock. Not that it would keep Stark out if he was determined to enter, but it was a nice gesture.

“Pepper used it for a while as an office, but then she moved out and I didn’t do anything with it. It has this really cool feature - check it out.”

At the touch of a button, the large window hummed and folded down, turning into an open balcony and letting in a rush of cool night air. It was like watching a crane unfold its wings, and Loki loved it immediately. The space was private, on the other side of the penthouse from Stark’s room, and the promise of open sky made the decision easy.

“Yes,” he said without reservation. “Yes, I would very much like to use this room.”

A strange look of relief passed over Stark’s face, replaced by his warm smile almost before Loki had noticed it.

“Cool. It’s yours. I’ll hook you up with my designer tomorrow and we can get it made up the way you want it in a few days. Sound OK?”

“Of course,” Loki said, his heart light. This was going to be fine. Stark was a reasonable man and he had no reason to deny Loki his reasonable request. He had been worried over nothing - he would have his own retreat in the penthouse and he could come here to be alone, to meditate, to reflect and center himself when he needed to. He could grant Stark what he desired and he could come here when he needed to have no hands on his skin but his own. It was a very fair compromise, and Loki wanted to ensure Stark knew how grateful he was.

“Thank you, Anthony. You are very kind. Truly, I could not have wished for a better patron than you.”

Stark raised his eyebrow, mild confusion on his face.

“What’s a patron?” he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun!! Now you can read the two sequel options on what happens next! It's not a seamless transition as these two wonderful authors wrote the sequels before I wrote chapters 3,4 and 5 (because I don't know how to stop writing), but read them anyway!
> 
> :)))

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [When I say I love you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218165) by [SilverScaler3000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverScaler3000/pseuds/SilverScaler3000)
  * [Patron against his will](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28379955) by [Shivanessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shivanessa/pseuds/Shivanessa)




End file.
